• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 11


How dare we plan for tomorrow,
How arrogant is man?

Do we fear death too less?
Or we love life too little?
Or do you sometimes think too
that we fear life so we let it do what it can.

Maybe it's just me, but the fear is red,
Like my shawl, it drapes me twice
Sometimes, it feels so comfortable and warm,
and sometimes, like a bed of ice

Sometimes, I don’t have to show you much
to see through you from these eyes

There is a world underneath my red shawl
and a world outside.